


for all our fears

by acidquill



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidquill/pseuds/acidquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John develops a new nighttime routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for all our fears

**Author's Note:**

> an attempt at vague foreshadowing. title from Starrett’s ‘221B.’ originally written Jan 13 2012.

He dreams of hospital beds and saline drips. The sharp smell of antiseptic. He dreams of blood on his hands: a bullet, a knife, a broken body. He dreams of the thunder of water in his ears and the helpless feeling of knowing nothing he can do is enough. Comes awake feeling like he’s run too hard and too long.   
  
It’s not Afghanistan for once - _again_. Hasn’t been for weeks. Doesn’t matter because every new nightmare is just as horrible.  
  
He won’t be able to sleep until he’s made the rounds, until he’s checked. One more time. John gets up, belts his robe around and eases himself downstairs. Stops before he hits the second tread from the bottom with its tell-tale creak.   
  
Sherlock is on the sofa, long legs curled impossibly into a space that shouldn’t hold him. John stays a moment. Long enough to see the slight rise and fall of his friend’s breathing.  
  
John shakes his head. God knows, he’ll get read the riot act or who knows what, if - when - Sherlock figures out this new nightly routine of his. It’s a wonder he hasn’t been discovered before now. Regardless, John has no intentions of stopping. No matter what Sherlock says or how silly John feels once the sun's risen and the only worries he has time for become keeping up with Sherlock’s whirlwind life. Balancing his force of nature personality enough for the rest of London to tolerate their antics one more day.  
  
He gives the couch one last look before heading up to bed again. Smiles a little as Sherlock twitches, kicks a foot in his sleep.  
  
 _He’s fine. It’s all fine._  
  
Now at least, John can rest easy.


End file.
